


Mirror

by Flarky



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2009-2010, Comfort, Depression, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 18:32:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14721378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flarky/pseuds/Flarky
Summary: Phil is Dan's cure, his lifeline, his saviour. He has to be.





	Mirror

One last fringe check and then he’ll head out. Or wait, maybe he should check everything one last time. His teeth are brushed, white and squeaky clean. He smells like teenage boy deodorant, which isn’t ideal, but it’ll have to do. He isn’t wearing pyjama bottoms, just a pair of loose pants. He is wearing a shirt, a plain and grey one, but now he’s unsure whether he should keep it on. He’d rather not, and he’s got a feeling Phil would appreciate that decision just as much. But he’s scared of being too clingy, too needy, too pushy. 

He looks in the mirror and tries to objectively judge himself. Overall, his face looks fine. He’s not exactly a model, but none of his features could be considered repulsive and maybe some people might find him attractive. His hair, well, he tries his best to keep his fringe the way it’s supposed to be, but he knows he’s just fighting a losing battle. Somehow, he’s still looking in the mirror.

He stares into his own eyes for a long time, he gets lost in them, gets to know every little piece of them. He can’t seem to tear his gaze away anymore. The sensation leaves him feeling strangely invulnerable as he takes in every part of his face, his dead eyes, his emotionless mouth. He doesn’t have to smile when he’s just looking at himself. He doesn’t have to look good, he can’t even look bad, because it’s just him. How can he be afraid of his own mirrored face? It only copies him, only does what he allows it to do. He’s got it under control, he’s got himself under control. He breathes in deep and watches his chest rise and fall. 

He takes off his shirt now, while still holding eye contact with himself. He looks okay. He looks fine. He can believe that Phil thinks he looks good, sexy even. He is reminded of a few long, heated nights, filled with the exploration of each other’s bodies, that suggest Phil definitely wouldn’t mind if he leaves his shirt off. He looks in the mirror again. His eyes are as lifeless as they were before. Somehow, the sight is intoxicating, and it draws him deeper, while his eyes seem to zoom in more and more without anything ever getting larger. He’s not sure if he’s leaning forward or not, but he has to do something now, has to move, so he swallows and blinks hard. It works. The spell is broken, he’s free to leave, and everything is fine. One last fringe check before he steps outside and walks to Phil’s bedroom.

The air in the hall is cold, but Dan barely even feels it. He isn’t really feeling much at the moment. But Phil is about to touch him, kiss him, make him feel good. Phil will bring him back until the air grows too cold on his naked skin and then Phil will be the one to make him warm again when he holds him close. Phil will save him from the dead stare of his reflection that is still haunting his eyelids as he stops at his bedroom door. 

Phil looks at the door when Dan enters, and his gaze raking up and down his body should make him feel vulnerable, naked, but it doesn’t. Dan’s looking at Phil’s wild, long fringe, his shy smirk, his mismatched socks, his fists clenching up in the duvet and he has to keep looking because the information his eyes are receiving isn’t reaching his brain. Something is blocking it along the way, holding him back from forming an opinion, having a reaction, thinking something, but at the same time he’s thinking so much.

Most of all, he’s thinking that he should really stop staring now, and then he realizes that he isn’t even smiling, because his face can’t seem to move and Phil’s smirk is slowly disappearing as he tries to make sense of the almost-naked boy standing in his bedroom who has lost all feeling because he looked in the mirror for a minute too long. Dan focuses all his power into his lips and lifts the corners of his mouth. It reminds him of this one time as a child when someone had painted a clown’s face on him at a party, but he’d gotten sad and started crying after. He remembers seeing his face in the mirror, the corners of his mouth turned all the way down as he cries ugly tears while the painted-on lips around his keep stubbornly pointing upwards. They aren’t his, and they’re fake and he just wants them gone. 

His lips drop back down and poor Phil looks more confused than Dan’s ever seen him.  
“Hey,” Phil tells him, still sitting on his bed, “you gonna join me or keep standing there?” He laughs a breathy awkward chuckle after that and Dan truly feels sorry, after all, this is all his own fault. So he walks over and climbs on top of the bed, and he just hopes that Phil will disregard his glazy eyes, his missing smile, his goosebumps that weren’t caused by the outside air, but his inside conditions. He hopes Phil will kiss him, touch him, bring him back. He needs Phil to save him, because he’s falling away and colour is draining and why isn’t there a single sound to be heard in this room?

“How are you feeling?” Phil whispers, and he doesn’t touch him, and fuck. What is Dan supposed to do now? Tell him he’s fine, nothing is wrong, he’s just a little queasy from looking in the mirror, but he’ll be right back to normal? He doesn’t even think he can speak as many words right now. “Nothing” is what his mouth decides to say. It’s not exactly a grammatically correct response but it conveys his mood quite well. 

“Like the time you told me about?” Phil asks him. He sounds so sweet, so gentle, seemingly afraid to startle Dan, to scare him off. He isn’t capable of revelling in the fact that Phil remembered him talking about this during one of their late night calls right now, but he stores it away for later, for a time where he’s feeling a different kind of lonely and sad and afraid. 

“Yeah.” Dan confirms. It isn’t exactly the same feeling, every time he’s felt like this has been slightly different, but it’s close enough.

“It’ll get better. You’ll be fine” Phil says. He’s wrong. This feeling is part of Dan, he knows it. He’s been feeling it for quite a few years now and it certainly doesn’t seem to be getting better. And now that he knows Phil isn’t some magical cure, he’s lost all hope of it ever being ‘fine’. 

“Can I touch you?” Phil asks him. Dan nods. It definitely won’t do him any harm. So Phil turns Dan on his side, and shuffles in behind him. He pulls the duvet over them and pushes his knees into the backs of Dan’s and somehow they’re warm, and Dan feels a shiver running all along his body. He wraps an arm around Dan’s stomach and pulls him into his chest and he rests his head in Dan’s neck and everything about being with him is so much warmer than being alone. Phil still isn’t a cure, and he can’t save Dan from himself, but he can hold him until he manages to save himself.

“Good night. You’ll be happier in the morning” he whispers right in Dan’s ear, and he places a small kiss on his temple. This time, Dan does believe him.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed, let me know on tumblr, i'm @flarky :)


End file.
